


Splendid Teeth

by c_forbes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, a little fluff i guess, shakespeare nerd murphy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 21:25:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3624786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c_forbes/pseuds/c_forbes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the end, Murphy just wanted to keep her safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I turned my back and you turned to dust

**Author's Note:**

> First R/M fic yaay  
> Will attempt to write a second part..  
> alright alright alright peace

Clarke had sent Raven out to collect some scraps for her next big mechanical game-changer. Of course, the blonde leader knew of the risks, and after a deep breath, looked pointedly over at Murphy who stood by the gate on watch. Clarke continued to stare at him, and he stared back, his gaze only trailing after Raven when she trotted past him, a gun slung over her shoulder. When he met Clarke’s eyes again, her eyebrows were raised. The cogs in his head rotated stiffly. _Oh._ He gave an melodramatic sigh and hoisted his gun a little higher, and then he followed after the spitfire.

Clarke watched them until they were out of sight, lost among the green foliage. Her forehead creased as they disappeared. She didn’t trust Murphy, not entirely, not yet. But, begrudgingly, she knew that he was at least somewhat protective of Raven, and she would willingly take that if it kept her friend safe.

* * *

Raven plodded along the overgrown path, a rucksack now filled with metal scrap. She hummed to herself, trying to tune out Murphy’s babbling; she’d humoured him for half the walk already.

Then, he collided into her, and her name peeled off his lips in a gruff hurry. She knew that voice, so like Bellamy’s: it only meant trouble. She ducked and crawled through the nearest bush, heaving the bag after her. No way was she leaving it behind. Clambering back into a battle-ready position, Raven aimed her gun, although as she was doing so Murphy was already lowering his.

“All good?” she called. A few shots had ricocheted through the leafage, accompanied by a final yell from further away. Ground underfoot crunched as Murphy pushed through the branches, not even flinching when they scraped against his cheeks. His gun fell first, then he collapsed after it.

“Better than ever,” he answered in a chipped tone. He flopped onto his back, the arrow burrowed in his chest a blazing heat.

* * *

Raven could see his lips moving, mumbling something under his breath. She leaned forward to catch the last string of the soliloquy.

“Out, out, brief candle!Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stageand then is heard no more: it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,signifying nothing.”

She wanted to slap him upside the head for reciting something so grim in a time like this, but this was John Murphy, true to his nature, even till the bitter end. “You’re a dork, Murphy.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a tech geek, Reyes.” There was a grin; his mouth spread wide across his face, lips bloody. Then it dissolved, just as his body had begun to convulse in a fit of coughing. Raven knew he didn’t have much longer. She also knew she should hate him. (She can’t.)

Murphy’s eyes were on her again. “I’d choose you first.”

All too familiar words.

( _Of course you would. I’m awesome_ )—

“I’d choose you too.”

The words were out of her mouth before she could even process them, but she didn’t mind knowing it would be the last thing John Murphy heard. And, she thought, if life on the ground wasn’t so hectic, (and he smiled like he was right now a little more often), she might just let herself love him.

(It’s another sin to add to his long list if he denies he does.)


	2. After all that you've put me through here's one for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven deals--or rather, doesn't--with her feelings towards a certain reckless kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has been sitting in my drafts for mooonths. i'm lame.  
> you should listen to "sweetheart, what have you done to us" while reading for some real heart ache ok

**_“Something is eating away at me with splendid teeth.”_ **

x

Raven stared up at the top bunk as she lay in bed, buried deeply within her thoughts. Having someone die in her arms took its toll on her, and considering it was Murphy, her brain was as conflicted as ever. She should hate that gun-wielding psychopath for all the hurt he had caused, but then she would remember that she offered him up on a silver platter. They were, technically, even. Until he died. _Protecting her_.

No, she definitely hated him.

Stupid son of a gun! She never should have warmed up to him. Now she actually felt alone—lonelier than she had in some time.

She huffed again, and turned on her side. Above her, Octavia edged up onto her elbows.

“You okay?” Octavia whispered.

“Just dandy,” she answered, rolling over again. At some point, Raven fell asleep staring into the darkness, feeling desolate and filled with unwanted, flittering images of the damned _John Murphy_.

* * *

Leg trundling behind her, seemingly forgotten for the moment, Raven waltzed up to her friend. Clarke turned around to meet her bright eyes.

“Raven. Hey.”

She gave a slight nod and a mumbled ‘hi’ before she got straight to the point. “I never got those supplies I needed.”

Clarke seemed to deliberate this for a moment; just because a few days had passed, didn’t mean it was a journey any safer. “Alright,” she finally breathed out. “Take—”

“It’s fine, Murphy can—” Raven coughed harshly, trying to cover her own mistake. Murphy can come? _No,_ Murphy was six feet under.

“Raven,” Clarke started, reaching out a hand to gently place on her friend’s shoulder.

“Uh, whatever,” the brunette shrugged it off roughly as she jerked back. Then hurriedly she shuffled away— _as quick as that damn leg could take her!_ —, back to the confines of her workshop. She could tinker around with some stuff for another day.

Clarke only sighed, eyes trained on the empty spot in front of the tent where Raven had disappeared.

* * *

“Raven, there’s a quicker way to get there,” Miller pointed out as he trailed behind her, wary of their surroundings.

“I prefer the scenic route,” she replied flippantly, eyes glued to the ground. Ah, there it was. The spot where it all happened. The blood had since washed away, but she was sure this was the place. Raven stopped in her tracks and stared down at the grass and mud, that empty feeling filling her again. Miller bumped against her and she realised her cheeks were slightly damp. She slapped a hand against her skin and grunted, stumbling onwards. Raven was grateful he pretended not to notice.

* * *

She sat at dinner, for once, not alone. Raven was joined by Octavia, Clarke, and Bellamy, and a few other delinquents who made up the rest of the line. She didn’t say much though, just nodded where it was needed, sometimes cracking a tiny smile.

Raven poked at her food again, annoyed at herself for too many things; namely, for not having an appetite. It was causing Octavia and Clarke to look between themselves and then at her all too often. Oh— _or_ it could be the sudden bad mouthing she could finally hear.

“I’m glad the psycho’s finally dead.”

It came from one of the people at the table she didn’t know. Slowly, she raised her head as she searched for the voice. Out of the corner of her eye, Raven noticed the worried stares focused on her. She pinpointed the unknown speaker. Some boy she didn’t know, accompanied by another two.

“What?” Raven spoke up, loudly, toneless.

The small group seemed to realise it was pointed at them.

“Didn’t you hear? That crazy guy Murphy was killed by Grounders,” the same boy continued.

Raven’s grasp on the table stiffened measurably. “I was _there_.”

What he said next roused a laugh from his friends. “You must have offered him up. How else would _you_ get away?” She could read between the lines: _Nice work, cripple_.

Consequences be damned, Raven decided; the fire in her veins was too much of an inflammatory; this match was about to be lit. She stood up, hauling her leg over the stool. She marched the few steps with a cool stare and rigid posture. “That’s not what happened,” she said slowly, enunciating every word. Even a self-sacrifice was not enough to clear Murphy’s name, apparently—and that only riled her up further.

“Well, what else could have happened? Unless _you_ killed him?” The boy’s words were taunting, and he levelled her height leisurely.

Adrenaline made it easy for her to launch herself onto him, bum leg and all. They smashed into the table, plates meeting their demise. Raven socked him in the jaw, hard and heavy, and wasted no time in slamming him against the surface by his collar. She barely recognised the groans he let out as she pained him, too focused on causing more damage. She saw the boy’s fist coming and barely reacted, almost wanting to feel hurt from _someone other than Murphy_. However, it never landed as she was abruptly ripped away. In an instant she was half on the ground, half standing, mostly in Bellamy’s arms, with Octavia’s hand resting on her. Clarke stood between the two brawlers now, blocking her view. Raven could still hear him huffing.

“Look at that,” he spat, pushing past the blonde with unnecessary force, “the cripple’s _crying_.”

Luckily for him, Bellamy still had a tight hold on the spitfire.

* * *

“Raven, we need to talk.”

Too many people had started their ramblings with her name lately. “I have work,” she spoke in a monotone, shooting Clarke her best uninterested stare.

“Raven—”

“Leave, Clarke.”

Clarke pushed through the cracked-open door. “We need to talk about it. About Murphy.” Raven flinched.

“There’s nothing to say.”

“You miss him, Raven,” Clarke sighed, closing the door slowly, watching her with careful eyes.

She looked completely taken aback. Then, she snapped, “like _hell_ I do.”

Clarke sighed. A few beats passed before the blonde spoke again. “You went back.”

Raven’s eyes turned downcast. “None of Miller’s damn business! Or yours,” she seethed.

“He was your friend, in some weird way. It’s okay to miss him, Ray,” Clarke continued.

Raven shook her head. “I hate him.”

“For dying?”

Warily, the mechanic looked up. Her eyes stayed on her friend for a moment. Then, she jerked her chin once. “Yeah,” she croaked, doe eyes glistening under the faint light. _For leaving me_ —although that went unsaid. _Like Finn, like mom, like everyone else_. She didn’t say that out loud, either.


End file.
